


Saving Prince Charming

by Justanothernerdywriter (orphan_account), Relvich



Category: Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Depression, M/M, Major Illness, Not Really Character Death, Personality traits, Self-Hatred, Swearing, Well - Freeform, a little angsty, i mean come on guys you know me, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2018-09-17 14:54:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 17,176
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9330254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Justanothernerdywriter, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Relvich/pseuds/Relvich
Summary: Thomas' hopes and dreams, the brightest parts of him, were dying. How was a darkness like Anxiety even supposed to help?(...By any means necessary.)





	1. Prologue.

**Author's Note:**

> This work began just after "New Year's Lies", and its plot hasn't changed since. The traits' human names will not be making an appearance in this piece (except by author error haha), nor will Deceit.

Hopes, dreams, creativity, and beauty. That was what it was like to be the Prince. He was the never-ending passion and joy for travel, singing, dancing, and acting, all wrapped up in a stunningly energetic and radiant package. He was like the sun— fiery, and seemingly eternal. Brilliant.

Sometimes, Anxiety wondered what things would look like through Prince’s eyes, or what it was like to glow with happiness for no other reason than life itself.

But then he was always struck with reality, and he remembered who he was, _what_ he was— Anxiety. Dark thoughts, fear, that gut-wrenching feeling whenever something would (or could) go wrong. He was knees-pulled-up-to-chest, can’t-speak-can’t-breathe, he was chest-constricting-mind-spiraling, he— well. He was the tears shed in the dark, the ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ of the pure and bright being called Thomas Sanders.

And right now, he wished he was anyone else.

“Prince? Oh god. Shit. Uh—” the darker-clothed trait reached out to touch the feverish Prince, but quickly pulled his hand away, not even letting his fingers brush the other’s aura. Who knows what effect his venom-filled touch would bring to this, this trait of light and life?

“What are you _doing_ here, Anxiety?” the lighter  ~~but dimming~~ trait coughed in such a way that Anxiety was half-expecting a lung to come up. He winced. “Haven’t you done enough?”

“What? I… I didn’t do this…” but honestly, it had been a thought eating at Anxiety ever since Prince’s aura began to darken weeks and weeks ago.

“Oh, please.” Prince scoffed. It sounded like his throat had been replaced with sandpaper, and oh _god, how would he ever sing again?_

“Tell me: how else would I be… dying... but because of your strangling influence on Thomas? If you didn’t make him so afraid to be himself—”

“…But I _am_ a part of Thomas.” Barely a murmur, and it was drowned out by Prince’s terrified rant. Anxiety wasn’t _really_ listening anymore, though: it just felt like wave after wave of horrid grey emotion crashing over him.

He could almost physically _feel_ every word Prince threw at him drag him closer and closer to the edge… and this was so, _so_ not the time.

_An attack._

“So there. I’m going to be dead in the span of a couple of weeks, and it will be your fault.”

“How… how… can I help you?” Anxiety could barely force the syllables out of his mouth, almost as if he were choking in reverse, gasping for air every couple of words.

“Just— just leave.”

And Anxiety, though he wanted more than anything else than for Prince to survive this… this whatever-the-hell disease _~~your fault~~_ , he bolted, sinking into Thomas’ mind faster than he ever had.

He didn’t have much time to think between the endless loops of self-created vitriol, but as he sat in the darkest corners of Thomas’ psyche, he _swore_ to fix it. Fix whatever was wrong, whatever was literally _killing_ Thomas’ hopes, dreams, creativity.

~~Even if it was himself that must pay.~~

           

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, here's the prologue! whoo boy, this one's gonna be a doozy, I can feel it. Also: sorry for how short this is. It's unedited as of right now, as well, so I'll fix that tomorrow  
> Thank you to the lovely Thomas Sanders for brightening my (and so many others') day!  
> Wishing lovely days to you all!  
> Hope you enjoyed,  
> Rel.


	2. So It Begins.

Honestly, Logic didn’t know what to make of it either. And that, _that_ was one of the weirdest statements he’s ever had to make in his lifetime with Thomas Sanders. He knelt beside the unusually quiet Prince, shaking his head softly. And after a long while, Logic knew he couldn’t delay the inevitable anymore.

“I don’t get it. I don’t know why this is happening, Prince. But I do know that if this keeps going, then you—”

“Will die." The words rang within their head, with an almost-echo tailing them. They were heavy, permanent, and it only seemed to make their situation sound _worse._  

Logic knew, that logically, the words made no real difference. But that was what it felt like, and sometimes those were two different things. Even for him.

"I guessed that much when I became semi-paralyzed.” Prince's voice was dry, and while this applied in the literal sense, it was just as valid in a figurative one. It reminded Logic much of Anxiety, but he supposed that wasn’t a good thing to bring up at a time like this.

Especially looking back on the events of the night before.

It’s not like the mindsets _meant_ to eavesdrop on each other, they just shared the same real estate. And with how loudly Prince was thinking and feeling, it wasn’t like they could _not_ hear him. It was one of the struggles of their profession.

~~And how could Prince have not heard (felt?) Anxiety’s distress yesterday? Evidently, he was just as stubbornly judgmental as ever, even now. He had only been trying to help.~~

Speaking of: everyone in Thomas’ head (except Thomas, of course) ought to have heard their exchange by now. And he was right— in the direction of Anxiety’s domain, he felt a harsh _pang_ of something sharp, aimed inward toward himself. In Dad’s thoughts, he felt dismay and something that was akin to (but not quite) shock. Instead, it was more like the last traces of denial leaving the trait like a shed skin.

“Yes. Most likely.” Logic sighed. “But for now, a few recommendations: keep up on your rest, take care of yourself, and do _try_ to not start up any discourse. I’m assuming that getting too excited will do you no good, and also… we’re all you’ve got, Prince.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolled his eyes, but they held more fear in them than disdain.

“Mm. That’s what I thought. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got an errand to run. Morality will watch over you for now.” He sunk into their consciousness like it was his only savior (and perhaps, it was. Out of sight, out of mind, all that jazz) and fled the scene.

*

“Come on, Anxiety. I know you’re out here somewhere.” Logic had been wandering the darkest sectors of Thomas’ mind for a while now, and he hadn’t achieved anything other than getting himself hopelessly lost.

Anxiety _was_ the only one to ever be able to make sense of these landscapes, after all. He had just turned a corner when—

“Well well well, what’s a nice trait like you doing in a place like this?”

“Holy—! Jesus, Anxiety. What the hell.” He was smirking, but it was transparent, meaningless.  

“What, I can’t defend my personal space with a joke or two? Where’s the logic in that, eh?”

“Just stop. You don’t have to pretend to be an ass all the time.”

“But it’s my best feature.”

“…Okay.” Logic let out an exasperated breath.

He had long since learned that when Anxiety was like this, it was useless to try and combat him; so he decided to just cut to the point of his visit.

“Well, I know you heard me over there.” He spoke quiet enough so that the other characteristics couldn’t hear; which is to say, very quietly.

“Yeah. Why should I care? I mean—”

“I know it wasn’t you, Anxiety.” The darker trait’s bravado instantly deflated, and his posture along with it. He shrunk in on himself, his shoulders hunched and his eyes downcast.

He had hit the nail on the head, as always.

“You don’t know that. Not even I know that.” Even his voice sounded smaller, guarded.

“Which is one of the reasons that I know you’re not to blame. That, and your… conversation last night.”

“…You heard that?”

“Dad too.”

“Shit. Shit, I hate this.”

“We know.” Logic let out a huff of breath, looking off to the side into the black-as-pitch walls that Anxiety tended to inhabit. “And I know that your determination to save him runs deep anyway. That’s why I’m here, actually. Two things.” Anxiety just took a moment to stare balefully at Logic, clearly urging him to _get on with it already._ He had been done with this conversation since it had taken a nosedive towards Prince’s… condition.

“One: whatever you’re thinking, do not try to hurt yourself. In any way. I don’t care if you think it’ll make Prince better.”

“Duh.” Logic glared at him for a couple of seconds, but moved on without comment.

“Two: I think it might be time to go visit Thomas. In the real world. He… won’t listen to me anymore. Or Dad, very much, it’s like we’ve been muted or something. I don’t know why, but—”

“I’ve been trying to give him a break.”

“I know that, but look. It isn’t good for you to keep it all bottled up. And you might find out what’s wrong. That helps him more in the long run than anything, and more than makes up for a few minutes of ‘getting his blood pumping’.”

“I guess.”

“Good." Logic pushed up his glasses, sighing his apprehension. "But hurry. Time is of the essence.”

“Yeah.”

The intellectual trait then made his descent into the darkened mind-scape, on his way to do… something, probably. Anxiety didn’t really know or care where he was going.

H ~~e just hoped he was going to go help the Prince somehow. Which was _illogical_ , since there was nothing he really _could_ do. ~~

~~~~“Welp. Suppose it’s time for a field trip, then.”

And with a small sardonic and self-depreciating chuckle, he was on his way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyyyyyyyyyy so this is probably bad. sorry, I've looked at this over and over and I can't seem to get it quite right. Also, it's short. whoops. Anyways, if you'd like to leave feedback, I'd love to receive it!  
> Hope you enjoyed,  
> Rel out.


	3. worthless.

Anxiety rose up out of Thomas’ stairwell as nonchalant, quiet, and graceful as a shadow. He was _not_ expecting the house to mimic his soundlessness.

Usually, his host’s home was bustling with noise, be it mumbled song, a buzzing television, even a radio. Sometimes it was just the creaking of floorboards associated with someone restless as Thomas. But when Anxiety ascended to his place on the stairs, he was greeted with a reality of cold, hard, _silence._

“What is going on with you?” all around him lie wrappers, trash of all sorts. It was a mess, except for the middle of the living room. There, Thomas was sitting, staring blankly at his camera. He wasn’t talking, just gazing at the lens, eyes glazed over. Quickly, his right hand went up to cover his mouth, and he seemed to huff in a way that suggested he was fighting disbelief or disgust, but his hand soon rejoined its partner to clasp on his lap.

He wasn’t looking at the camera anymore, though. He seemed to be spacing, eyes directed downward. Sighing, he went to get up.

“This is pointless.” Anxiety jumped at the sudden intrusion on the miasma of eerie serenity the house was enveloped in. But once he got past the initial shock of the volume, the actual words registered, and Anxiety grew even more nervous than he had been previously.

“Oh no, Thomas. This isn’t like you.” _It’s like me, maybe. But not you._ Thomas trudged across the living space, turning off his still recording camera. His feet dragged to the point of almost-stumbling. With a half-hearted pivot, he headed toward the kitchen. Anxiety followed without a word.

Thomas couldn’t see him, only hear him. He didn’t want to cause him any more grief than what he’d already seen in him today, so he uttered not a thing as he investigated this strange new behavior. ( ~~The behavior of a broken man, he should know, he should _know)_~~     

Eventually, the two made it to Thomas’ destination just down the hall. On the table, there lay a list. Thomas had always made little idea-lists for his videos, so this wasn’t something entirely unusual. The contents were somewhat disturbing, however: _Disney?_ It read. That bit was rather furiously crossed out with Sharpie. _Steven Universe? Creating? My mental state? _All of this was made near-unreadable through the thick black lines that choked the paper, except for one word. One word was the only survivor of the vandalism that Anxiety had to assume was Thomas’ own doing, and…

_worthless._

That’s all it said.

“Wha…?” Anxiety swirled around to face Thomas again. He was in the midst of making himself a bowl of cereal, and for the first time, he could see how thick the bags under Thomas’ eyes had become. They were nearly as prominent as his own.

Done with the menial task of fixing his breakfast, the host sat to eat it. But after a while of watching the milk and grains dance around his bowl, he shook his head. He started to get up, and Anxiety was beginning to realize that _he meant to throw it out._

“You’re going to kill yourself like this. Eat, Thomas.” The words were out of his mouth before he could stop himself, or remember that he was trying to keep quiet. They were tinged with desperation, with shock, and he almost instantly regretted speaking— but as soon as he had spoken, he felt the tell-tale sensation of his influence (fear-tipped claws, fire, a blade, suffocation- he came in many forms) shoot through Thomas’ heart and latch its horrid grip there. The man gave a surprised grunt, his eyes widened, and he took the spoon to his lips.

Anxiety sighed his relief. At least the kid would get _some_ nutrients out of this, and he hadn’t accidentally made anything worse, which was a plus.

But on the other hand, this was so much graver than he had thought. So, _so much._

He had never seen anyone act like this before.

So, armed with new information and a fragile (but growing) resolve, he sunk into the floor tiles, off to go report this (…something. This was certainly _something)_ to the others.

“Hold on, Prince.” ~~I’m coming home.~~

*

At Thomas’ home, he hadn’t yet moved from the kitchen seat Anxiety had left him in. That was three hours ago, and he had long since finished his meal.

He just couldn’t muster up the energy. It took a lifetime, it seemed, to get from his chair to the sink. And then, to possibly move somewhere else. And he was reasonably comfortable where he was, so he stayed. He just didn’t see the importance of doing anything else.

Sure, he would have _liked_ to have made a video today. His loyal fans have been waiting for ages; it had been nearly a month now, hadn’t it? Wow, time flies. Even when you’re _not_ having fun, apparently.

Because he wasn’t having any fun, not anymore. He didn’t know why, exactly. Nothing had changed. Maybe he was the one who had changed? Weird.

It was all just so… fuzzy, nowadays. Nothing really mattered. What mattered in the long run? School? Work? His career as an entertainer? He _knows_ that all of these things mattered to him. But he stopped _feeling_ like these things mattered to him, and that was what sucked everything else out of him. Maybe. Who knows. He didn’t; he was just making shots in the dark.

All he knew is that it wasn’t worth it if the only thing that drove him to do things was logic. Who cared about logic when the emotion was gone?

He had been a lot more productive this morning, though. He had even eaten breakfast, which hadn’t happened in a long time. He had _felt_ the need to eat breakfast, that morning. Now, however, he wasn’t feeling much of anything. Oh well.

He painstakingly stood from the hard chair, stretching as he went. He placed his bowl with the growing pile of dishes he had yet to do (he hadn’t done them in a _long_ time) and padded off to bed. There was no reason to do anything _else._

The glowing green lights of his alarm clock saw him off to his dreams, proudly stating the time to be twelve noon. Thomas smiled.

Maybe he would feel something tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, I actually have a reason this time. an excuse. here I go:  
> I was sick  
> I'm sorry, it's a lame reason. but it's the truth, so there you go.  
> Feedback's always welcome!  
> and as always, I hope you enjoyed.  
> Rel out!


	4. They were cold, and their warmth was fading.

Now, Logic and Anxiety had always been close. This may seem a bit counter-intuitive, since Anxiety was the one responsible for weaving the fantastical webs of lies and fear, the pictures made of over-thinking and poison, and since Logic was the one responsible for tearing them down with the harshness of reason, but…

But they were both somewhat shunned by the others, so they had been friends for something like a very long time.

Usually, it was subconscious. At least, with Logic. If he were to bring up the way he was often ignored and pushed to the side with Morality, he would laugh. Proclaim Logic to be one of his closest friends. Prince would simply scoff, declare the idea ridiculous.

Anxiety understood, though. He knew what it was like to not be taken seriously, what it was like when a room fell silent after walking through the door. He knew what it was to be alone in a room filled with your supposed friends.

Because with Anxiety, it wasn’t subconscious, it was purposeful. If he were to ever be confronted on the subject, Dad would sigh, look guiltily at the floor for a minute, but immediately go back to his usual bouncing self. Prince would simply agree. Of course he ignored Anxiety, the darkness, the pessimism, he was the _Prince,_ after all. He was the light. He was the hope.

Anxiety thought that Logic probably had it worse than he did. At least _his_ mistreatment was acknowledged, a known part of life in the mind of Thomas Sanders. But Logic, he had to endure it while the others called him ‘friend’, he had to grin and he had to make petty and pretty conversation when he was with the others. At least Anxiety didn’t have to pretend.

…They were cold. Or, at least, colder. This was the conclusion the two had reached during a late night chat in Logic’s neat and organized room, wrapped in unicorn onesies and question and hurt. They didn’t hold the same warmth, the same brightness and positivity as the other two. They didn’t think with their hearts, so they weren’t as welcomed. Logic could understand that, or he had said he could, in that midnight bubble of safety and dark. Not scary dark, but a blanketing one. A comforting one.

Anxiety knew, however, that Logic didn’t _really_ understand. Didn’t understand why he was brushed off, made a fool of, especially when his specialty was thinking rationally. Logically.

But he also knew that Logic needed a reason, lest he go mad, lest he break his shield before the others, so he agreed. He nodded and he gave a lipless grin and he remarked on how _illogical_ it all was. And they laughed.

They were okay. They were.

They were fine. ~~(and here’s where Anxiety knew more than Logic, that fine meant anything but, it meant they were _drowning)_~~

They were fine.

*

All of this was the reason that Anxiety sought out Logic first when he had returned from Thomas’ house. That, and because Logic was the one that sent him, but that just wasn’t as important.

“Logic?” He called, easing his footsteps on the creaking floorboards as to not wake anyone.

Logic appeared immediately, rising up like a gunshot, shaking and with eyes wider than Anxiety’s ever seen on him.

“Logic? What’s wrong?” He asked, but Logic was already speaking, their words bleeding together.

“It’s Dad, he —oh my goodness, I don’t— what do we do?”

“Okay Logic, calm down, what’s happened?” and wasn’t this rich, a role reversal, as if Logic hadn’t said these words to him hundreds upon hundreds of times, and honestly, seeing him like this was making his own shadow creep up his throat. He crushed it with desperation.

“It’s, it’s Dad, he just,” a deep breath, visibly trying to straighten himself. He was the level headed one, damn it. “he collapsed. He says he’s been feeling light-headed for days, now, and now he won’t wake up.”

Oh. Oh no.

Those symptoms…

_“Shut up. I don’t want to have to deal with you today.”_

_“Yeah, whatever Princey. Like you can get rid of me that easy.”_

_“Yes, well…” a thud sounded throughout their head, a noise made from the falling body of the Prince._

_“Prince? Prince?”_

_He was comatose._

Oh God.

“Oh… oh, um…”

“What do we do?” Logic repeated, his eyes almost begging.

“I… I don’t know. I don’t know.”

And if he said this was the first time he’d seen Logic cry, he would be lying. But if he said this was the first time he’d ever seen the trait look so helplessly lost, so broken…

Well.

That wouldn’t be too far off.

*

And they were both drawn to the others, of course. How could they not be? They were like suns, pulling them into their orbit. They were but tiny planets in their system.

Logic was more specifically attracted to Morality. In a completely platonic manner, of course. He was everything that he secretly wanted to be: kind, and considerate, and compellingly _illogical._ He was randomly predictable, and quietly deafening. A beautiful contradiction.

Anxiety, though he would never admit it aloud (he had, actually, but the laws of reality didn’t apply after nightfall in a blanket-fort of his and Logic’s creation) was undeniably… jealous? Envious? Enticed. Enticed by the Prince. He was everything Anxiety wished for in the dark while the tears dripped down his face; he was confident, and beautiful, and _wanted_ and god, Anxiety wished. He wished so much.

And they were both so… so happy. So brilliant. They were awe-struck, the both of them.

But they were who they were, and they weren’t particularly accepted, wanted. So they acted like they weren’t locked in by their glorious gravity, that their lives didn’t revolve around the warmth they provided them.

It hurt.

But that was life.

_~~But they were fading.~~ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I recovered from being sick and then I got sick a g a i n. What the heck, life, not cool  
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy! Have some unexpected Logic and Anxiety feels!  
> Rel OUT  
> PS: since this is largely unedited as of now, I'll do it tomorrowwwwww  
> Peace!


	5. Tired.

“Okay. C’mon, Logic, you got this. Deep breaths. I need you, we need to think rationally. C’mon.” they sat where Logic had fell, somewhere vaguely in the corner of the common area. Anxiety held Logic in his lap, tracing what he hoped were soothing circles onto his back. Usually, they didn’t do this sort of thing outside of Logic’s room (for Anxiety’s was in the middle of a labyrinth, and because engaging like this before the others might make them even _more_ wary of Logic, and Anxiety didn’t want that. He hoped that eventually he would get a prime spot with the rest. He deserved it, for sure, and maybe that meant abandoning him, but that was okay if he could be happier.)

(They would never consider him a friend, though. He knew he would always be hated, god, he hated   _himself—)_

Saltwater still leaked from Logic’s eyelids, and Anxiety was still fighting to get words out past the lump in his own throat, but they were doing a little better.

A little.

“Hey, you could even say we need to think _logically_ here.” He tried for a joke, one he knew that consistently got him to at _least_ bare a smile.

He huffed out a laugh, more like a harsh stab of choked sound, making his way to slowly climb out of Anxiety’s lap.

Success.

He put his back to the wall, and Anxiety mimicked him, both looking up at the ceiling.

“Don’t you even _dare_ to use a dad joke at a time like this.”

“It got _you_ smiling.”

“We shall _never_ speak of it.” Anxiety rolled his eyes. The amount of times he had been sworn to secrecy was honestly impressive. Logic removed his glasses, cringing slightly at the state of them: smudged with finger-oils and dried tears. They were a mess.

“Ugh. I thought I asked you to remind me to take these _off_ last time.”

“You did. I was a tad preoccupied, this once; you see, my best friend was kinda literally _falling into my arms?_ Had to catch him, you know how it is.” Logic was already looking more light-hearted, upturned lips and somewhat of a shine restored in his eyes that had nothing to do with the crying he’d been doing, and it definitely helped to clear some of Anxiety’s lingering worries for his well-being.

“Oh, shut up.” He pushed at his arm a little, and now even _he_ was laughing, and they had almost forgotten what they had even been breaking down about _this_ time around.

Not for long, of course. These moments never lasted.

Because soon, Logic’s glasses were clean and back in place, and his face grew grim again.

And they remembered that half their number was dying.

“So…” Logic broke first. “What was it like? On the surface.”

“Freaking _weird.”_ Anxiety muttered, dragging his hand through his hair. “Thomas is… I don’t know. He’s acting more like me than himself. And he tried to make a video while I was there, but it was like he couldn’t. And he didn’t really want to eat, and… Logic, I think he thinks he’s _worthless.”_

 _“What?”_ he gasped.

“Yeah. I found it written on a post-it, you know, where he keeps the content ideas?” Anxiety let out a deep sigh, trying to displace the unease that rooted itself in his very skin by the thought of it. “Like I said. Freaking weird.”

“Wow. That is strange, you’re right. It almost sounds like his hope is gone, or at least, fogged? Is that the right word? Maybe his creativity also, maybe his deep emotion…” their eyes were widening.

“So the real question is, then,” Anxiety shut his tired eyes and rested his head against the cool wall.

“Is the sickness that Dad and Prince have causing it or—”

“Or is it the other way 'round.” Came a hoarse voice from the commons room door. Both traits jumped, turning so fast that that Logic would later wonder how they hadn’t gotten whiplash.

There the regal mindset slouched in the doorframe, but he looked anything but royal. The bags under his eyes rivaled Anxiety’s, and his attire reeked of sweat and illness. His hair was every which way, and he had a fluffy pink blanket draped around his shoulders, with slippers to match.

“Prince?” Anxiety spoke first, leaping from the ground to help support the trait, but as he was afraid of what would happen if they made contact, he just hung an awkward foot away, unsure of what to do.

 _“Don’t touch me.”_ Prince spat, recoiling from even the possibility. Anxiety nodded, stepping aside and letting Logic take over and lead the sick trait to the couch.

Logic was the only one who saw the flash of hurt in Anx’s eyes, the one caused by the rejection that he in _no way_ deserved. He wanted to lash out at Prince for doing this to him, not just for today, but for every day before, but Anxiety shot him a very distinctive Look, the one he had given him countless times, so he said nothing.

Instead, he sighed. Gave the Prince a Look of his own.

“What are you doing out of bed? I thought you couldn’t even _move.”_

“Well, I was feeling a little better, and what do you know, I tried to move my toes and it _worked._ So I decided to take a walk while I could.”

_“You shouldn’t be out of bed.”_

“Oh, come _on._ Lighten up a little, it was just a little walk.”

Logic was _so tired_ of not being listened to. So, _so tired._

“You know what, Prince? Fine. That’s just fine. It’s whatever. Do what you want. I don’t care. That was – _is—_ Morality’s job.” He sunk down into the rickety floorboards, shaking his head, wiping at his eyes.

He had hit his wit’s end. He could only take so much, and having to constantly worry about the _death_ of, not one, but _two_ mindsets was rather trying. _Tiring._ God, he was so _tired._

Anxiety could agree.

With no one left to talk to, Prince hesitantly let his eyes find Anx’s.

“What’s _his_ problem?”

And this was probably the first time Prince had spoken to Anxiety without being forced to, and while that was thrilling _he just couldn’t handle this;_ his throat was closing, his heart was racing, his eyes couldn’t open any further, he would probably faint if his breathing got any more shallow—

He ran.

Logic would have his blankets ready when he got there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH LOOKIT A DOUBLE UPDATE  
> whoooooooo boy. Look, Logic and Anx fluffffff  
> Kay, hope you enjoyed,  
> Rel out.  
> also this is pretty much unedited but here you go


	6. The Comforting Quiet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyyyy look who's back!

In a quiet nook within Thomas Sanders’ head, there was a… a _something._ It was dark, and it was cold, and it sometimes sent shivers down Thomas’ spine, (and _not_ the good kind). And since it lived in a sector of his mind that no one ever went to, it festered. It grew. And now, it was _powerful._ And dangerously _unnoticed._

Because behind that ever-locked door lived Thomas’ consciousness. The thoughts and feelings that were uniquely _him -_ Thomas and no one else- happened there. They lived and breathed and flourished there. And the traits never dared visit this most sacred place, lest they pollute his very being. Or at least, that was their theory. They decided it was simply best not to risk it.

So, sneakily, the Thing that now resided in ‘that room’ became deadly influential, more so than some of the original traits, with no one the wiser.

It was _nothingness,_ so it took from others.

It stole life force from Prince.

It did the same to Morality.

Anxiety, it seemed, wasn’t affected at all.

And Logic?

Logic… well…

*

Logic’s room was quiet, a comforting shield of safety around the two sleeping traits. They lay on the floor in yesterday’s clothes, facing each other, unaware of the trials and tribulations the new day would bring them; but they wouldn’t remain undisturbed for long. In fact, Logic now stirred in his slumber, waking up slowly as he tossed and turned under their shared blankets. And as he woke, he sighed for dreams lost and for reality’s harshness. But such soft sentiments weren’t meant for people like him, so he quickly moved on.

Logic had always enjoyed the gentle not-silence that came with being alone in a room with a good friend: there wasn’t much talking, because there was an atmosphere of general understanding, of communication, and there was no need. And it wasn’t completely noiseless, either, because there were the subtle sounds of breathing, or maybe the turning of a page, or perhaps even pencil on paper. It was rather comforting, really. But that was illogical.

“Anxiety? Are you awake?” the darker trait yawned and blinked open his bleary eyes.

“I am now, thanks Logic.” Anxiety grumbled, and turned away from the other, taking his pillow with so that it covered his head. “Five more minutes.”

“You know, I think that was the most cliché thing I’ve ever heard you say.” He retorted as he sat up, rubbing at his eyes with unnecessary vigor.

“Yeah, well… your _face_ is cliché.”

“One- we have the same face, Anx. Two- that didn’t even make sense.”

“You might even say it was… _illogical?”_

“Oh _come on!_ That one was just plain unoriginal!”

“It’s like six in the morning, what did you expect, poetry?”

They were both giggling now, filling their little silence with something that was (for once) equally as pleasant. But with the chuckles came the awareness of being fully awake, and with that came the awareness of their surroundings, and with that came the awareness of the noises happening outside of Logic’s room. And they were not happy sounds.

Prince, for instance, was complaining. Loudly. You could even say he was screaming at the two of them. And Dad, well, he was trying to keep quiet, but he was rather obviously in pain.

“Dad’s awake.”

“Yeah.”

“Prince is. Um.”

“Being Prince.” They laughed, but the light was gone from it, replaced by shadows of expectation and of guilt.

“…I’ll get the Prince.” Logic let out a deep breath. He didn’t particularly want to deal with _that_ trait this early in the morning, or ever if he was being truly honest, but he knew that he was more equipped for dealing with him than Anxiety was.

“No… no, I’ll do it. You go check on Morality.” Logic’s head whipped around to face Anxiety, who rubbed at his neck. “Look. You need to see him—” Logic tensed, remembering that night (was it only the day before?) when Dad fell unconscious, when his every sense was blurred by tears, when he couldn’t even think for all his emotion swelling over him and held together only by his best friend’s arms ~~was that how Anx felt all the time?~~ — “I can handle Princey for a few minutes, don’t worry.”

“I don’t worry.” Was his automatic response, but it was more a result of years of telling himself that he wasn’t allowed anything but analytical decision than anything else.

“Yeah, sure you don’t.” Anxiety winked, grinning, letting the weight from his heavy heart and trepidation sink him into the carpet.

“Wait! I— Oh, whatever.” He shrunk into the floor, expecting a much more pleasant visit than the one Anxiety had forced upon himself.

*

“Logic! Dad! Anybody?” Prince cried out, looking rather comfortable snuggled up in his pink blanket on the couch they had left him in. Anxiety scoffed.

“I see your air for the theatrical is alive and well.” Anxiety droned, blowing his hair out of his eyes.

“Oh! — Oh. It’s just you.” Prince closed his eyes, rubbing his eyes in a way that mirrored Logic’s actions not so long ago. This wasn’t nearly as welcoming a situation, though.

“Yep. Just me. And I’m just here to move you back to your room, so don’t complain too much, Pretty Boy.” Anxiety made his way over to the couch Prince was reclining in, and offered his hand. Prince recoiled, acting for all the world as if Anxiety’s hand was the most vile thing he’d ever come across.

“I’d rather die than—”

“Then that’s what you’ll do, on this couch, because you were too stubborn to take my hand for about two seconds.”

The Prince grew pale, then. Or, paler. And Anxiety knew that playing on his fear of death was a tad below the belt, but he was just… _done._ He didn’t really want to be here, Prince didn’t really want to be here, and this got them both out of the situation quicker. Hopefully.

The Prince tentatively reached out to take his hand, and—

And Anxiety was writhing on the floor, screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so, I promised y'all an explanation on why i was gone so long. I'mma do bullet points cuz it's like 1am  
> im sorry (numbered in chronological order, not by importance!)  
> 1) bronchitis  
> 2) school  
> 3) a family friend died. he's basically my second dad, and it was super unexpected, so... yeah.  
> 4) then i got the flu  
> it just has really not been my week, but I'm alright now!! :)  
> Sorry if this sucks a lot! and that it's mostly dialogue!  
> peace!  
> Rel out  
> oh yeah also this is unedited whoops


	7. Before the Storm (Mute).

It was like being pulled apart, or burning alive, yet somehow ice cold, and maybe this is what Jesus felt like on the fucking cross, but all he really knew was that this was _pain._ And _lots of it._

He was vaguely aware of someone calling his name, and after a while, two someones, but they both paled in comparison to the call he was feeling from the Darkness now consuming him.

 _Come_ here.

_Here, you’ll be wanted_

_Here’s the oblivion you’ve always_ always _wished for_

 _You can stop being such a  d i s a p p o i n t m e n t  here—_   

There was water slipping down his face and seeping into his hoodie.

“Anxiety? Anxiety, thank god, his eyes are focusing. Okay. Okay.”

And oh, that was Logic, his friend, his only friend, and he knew that because he was smiling at him ~~he was the only one who ever did~~ and his purple tie was tickling at his neck, and wow, was that Prince sitting next to him? Looking worried?

Nah, it must just be the illness. He looks sick, not _worried,_ what a silly thought that was.

“Logic? What happened?” Anxiety mumbled, still dazed.

“You’re asking me? I should be asking you!” Logic held his hands up to his mouth, stifling a hysterical huff of not-laughter. Prince raised an eyebrow at him, seemingly puzzled by his display.

“I told you: I took his hand, and… _this_ just happened! I’m not sure how!”

“And I’m telling you: I don’t buy it! That was probably one of his worst attacks _ever,_ and you—”

“It wasn’t an attack.”

“An attack?”

Prince and Anxiety spoke at the same time, but Logic ignored the so-called royal in favor of the darker trait, nearly outright ignoring him.

“Then what was it?”

“It wasn’t Prince. But it… came from him? Or, not from him, but.” Anxiety’s eyes were creeping ever wider, and he abruptly shot up, causing many of his under-used joints to creak. He sprinted from the room, not even bothering to sink, because. He knew where he was going, he could feel the faint _pull_ , and besides, there wasn’t a personality anywhere that didn’t know the location of _this_ place by heart.

“Anxiety? Anxiety, wait up!”

But he didn’t stop, not until he got to the huge oaken door that none of them have seen for _years._ Its golden handle was rusty, but the hinges still gleamed, keeping the secrets inside safe and the thoughts of the traits _out._

There was a name carved on the door.

_Thomas._

“Anxiety, what are you doing? We’re not supposed to—”

He opened the door, the one that had been sealed so tightly for so long.

*

The room hadn’t changed much since he last saw it. Its walls were still a breathtaking shade of white, as were the marble-esque floors. The light was still dazzling.

But he supposed it was very different, because he doesn’t remember seeing a pulsating black hole the last time he was here, either.

It was at the center of the circular space, hovering just above the ground. It was spherical and it crackled with purplish-black energy.

“What in the world?” Logic was beside him now, and they stared at the great monstrosity together.

“I don’t know.” Anxiety admits, eyes glazing over. “All I know is that it hurts. And that it’s in the Prince somehow.”

“Then that’s what’s causing the sickness. If we find a way to get rid of it, then this nightmare will be—”

“Over, yeah. I just don’t know how we’ll get rid of it.” Anxiety rubs at his temples. “I really don’t like the feel of this place. Can we go now, or do you need to analyze it a bit more?  

No answer.

“Logic, come on, I know this is a shocking moment but let’s _go.”_

When he finally turns to face him, he’s confronted with the sight of his best friend gripping at his throat, tears rolling down his face. He’s making shapes with his mouth, but _no sound comes out,_ when a sob wracks him _it does so silently._

_“Logic?”_

Logic directs his face towards Anxiety (whose horror was written on his face for all to see), and he tried to say something. He failed.

But that’s okay. Anxiety could read his lips ~~even wavering as they were, even when Logic himself was trembling like a leaf~~ —. ~~~~

_i can’t speak._

_help._

They were _not okay._

*

It stole the life force from Prince.

For Morality, the deep emotion, it did the same.

But Logic?

It stole his voice.

(And it takes and it takes and it _takes—)_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see what I did there?? with the chapter titles?? hahaha  
> rel out, hope you enjoyed, lovelies :DDD  
> (the last line is part of a quote, but i can't find the author?? help,,, please,,, if i can't find them i'll take it out)  
> also!! this is bad and rushed (a bit) and unedited im so sorry
> 
> Alright! The last line is a quote from Lin Manuel Miranda's "Hamilton," specifically the song "Wait For It." Thank you so much to Mira for helping me figure it out!!!


	8. Falling Inside the Black.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to give a huge thanks and kudos to my friend PJ, who helped me block out this entire chapter, and who chased the writer's block away through much roleplay. thank you so, so much, my friend.  
> Also, his blog for Thomas Sanders things is @logicality-sanders . I highly recommend you check it out! It's super cool!

Anxiety took immediate action, grabbing Logic’s arm and sprinting toward the door.

God, they shouldn’t have come here. They weren’t even allowed to be there anyway, but Anxiety hadn’t stopped to listen to reason, _no,_ he rushed straight into things without pondering the consequences. And now look where they were, Logic was paying the price for his actions— his _most illogical actions—_ he had even warned him—

It was quiet. God, it was so _quiet—_

Okay. He had to keep calm, if not for his own sake then for Logic’s. He could do that.

 _Tears were running down Logic’s face, he had slumped to the floor and he was trying to say something, but he couldn’t he couldn’t he_ couldn’t; _he was shaking oh god what do I do—_

Or maybe he couldn’t.

“Um,” he gasped, a sharp thing. Tugged at his lungs. Every breath felt like burning flame, the back of his throat felt like the sixth circle of hell: forever entombed in burning inferno, writhing, twitching. Ironically, this was caused by the water creeping past his defenses and onto his face. “Um— can you sink?”

Logic was holding his head in his hands, teardrops cutting rivers down his cheeks, eyes wide and breathing erratic. His glasses lay long forgotten on the ground beside him. He looked to Anxiety, opening his mouth before snapping it shut again. He shook his head quickly, once, twice, and then buried his face in his hands once more. He was not even remotely okay enough to transport himself _anywhere_ right now.

He wasn’t used to such emotion overwhelming him, flooding him. He wasn’t used to the feeling of complete and utter lack of control, he wasn’t used to feeling… _useless._

He didn’t know what to do. _He didn’t know what to do._

“Logic… _Logic, look at me.”_

…Oh. Oh, okay, he could manage that. He slowly peeked from between his fingers at Anxiety. Anxiety’s heart gave a twinge, this was… this was _horrible_. ~~How did Logic deal with this all the time, when it was him?~~ He gently pried Logic’s hands from his face, holding them and giving him a soft smile.

“It’s alright. It’s okay, I don’t think even I can sink down right now, it’s fine.” His mind was racing— he hadn’t really processed the fact that Logic’s voice had been stolen yet, and now he had to make decisions for the both of them, and his thoughts were jumbled, tripping over each other and running disjointedly through his head— “How about we walk to the Commons. We can get to anywhere we need to go from there!” he tried to force a grin, but it faltered quickly, falling from his lips like snow on a winter’s day.

He knew Logic well enough to know that having a goal in mind would help him to focus. Help distract him from the situation, to distract him from whatever and wherever his thoughts were spiraling to. ~~(And he knew from experience, but that was _beside the point.)_~~

_Okay—_

Logic flinched when his efforts at language made no sound, but began to stand up. Anxiety was quick to his side, helping him up and supporting almost his full weight— Logic’s knees just seemed to _not be working right at the moment_ — and together, they began the trek to the Commons.

But when they arrived, they realized that they had made a mistake. A horrible, horrible mistake.

They had forgotten something.

Or, rather, someone.

_Prince._

Logic and Anxiety locked eyes, nonverbally agreeing to try and skirt around the room unnoticed. Neither of them needed a confrontation with the irritable royal right now.

But it was too late.

“Oh, there you two are.” He gave a tired quirk of his lips, but soon he fully took in the sight of the two of them. And what a pair they made: leaning against each other so heavily, hair and clothes mussed, saltwater drenching both their faces.

“…Logic? What happened?”

And with the state Logic was in, his mouth worked faster than his brain, a true indicator of how _wrong_ he felt, how out of his element was. Because he _knows_ that if he tried to say something right now, he would fail; and he _also_ knows what Prince would likely think if he found out just then. He knows all of this, but his tongue didn’t seem to register this.

_There’s something in The Room._

He slapped his hand over his mouth, covering a sob, realizing too late what he had done. Prince’s eyes widened, confused at first. But then the lightning of realization struck him, and he _knew._ His eyes narrowed, sharpened like daggers. Slowly, deadly, the Prince turned the weapons to Anxiety, who flinched. The blades in the ‘lighter’ traits eyes were already slicing through his sanity, his walls, his control. He had already been teetering over the edge of his own personal pit, but this was already herding him closer and closer to the blackness of his own thoughts.

_“What have you done?”_

And with that, Anxiety crumpled to the floor weeping, sobbing into his hands. _It_ was _his fault, after all._ He was the one to cause such hurt in his best friend, he was the reason he was feeling so helpless because god he could feel it rolling off of him in _waves—_

Prince took this as the most obvious admission of guilt he’d ever seen, and naturally, began to scream vitriol at the prone characteristic.

“How could you—

“You’re a _monster—_

“I wish you’d never existed—

“How could you _do_ this to us?”

And Logic had promised Anxiety so, _so_ many times that he wouldn’t confront the brighter, warmer traits on how he was treated, but. But he was already exhausted, and this was going _too far,_ and he had never been this angry, frustrated, _panicked_ in his whole life, and—

And his usually immaculate (but fraying) control snapped, and he leaped between Anx and the Prince, screaming at him to _stop, shut up, he’s so much more than that, this isn’t his fault, it isn’t anyone’s, shut up shut up_ shut up—

But this only served to remind him how absolutely _useless_ he was, or felt he was, because of _course_ Prince couldn’t hear him, of _course,_ and now his sight was blurred entirely by tears and not just the fact that they had left his glasses somewhere near The Room, and he was trembling, and and _and—_

And it was in exactly that moment Anxiety decided to risk a glance up at the Prince, trying to gauge how much longer he had to endure this, or how angry he was, and his eyes instead found Logic. And in his addled head, he was shouting at him too. And honestly, he had expected this day would come. He had probably finally figured out that he was nothing but a disease, a menace, that the Prince was right about him, that he was a horrible friend, that he wished he’d never met him. And Anx curled up even tighter on the floor, and his gasped sobs felt like claws in his stomach with their intensity, and his eyes were screwed shut so as to block out the sight because _maybe if he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t real, maybe if he couldn’t see it, it wasn’t real—_

And Logic, seeing this, finally couldn’t take it anymore: he latched onto Anxiety’s arm and took them… somewhere, and all he cared about was that it _wasn’t there._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyyyyyy look who's on time for once  
> hope you enjoyed,  
> rel out!  
> PS: chapter title is from a Skillet song :)


	9. broken.

Anxiety was aware enough to know that he was being taken somewhere. And aware enough, after that, to register that he was curled on a very plush carpeted floor instead of a harsh wooden one.

He hadn’t ever felt carpet this soft before… except in one place…

It was rather comforting, really…

_Wait._

_This wasn’t right._

His eyes snapped open, and the first thing he saw was _black. Black carpet._ And when he looked up, he saw what looked to be the night sky, and roiling storm clouds.

_Oh no._

Logic _no._

His mind snapped into focus. _Logic. He had to find Logic._ He rose up from his curled position on his floor (yes, _his_ floor, because he knew where they were oh _god)_ —

There he was, a few feet from him, collapsed in on himself and sobbing and utterly utterly _silent._

“Logic…”

Anxiety leapt into action, dropping to his knees by his side. He was turned away from him, and trembling, shaking in time with his sobs. His eyes were completely unfocused, ~~not like he could see from them anyway what with the water pouring from them—~~

“Logic? Okay, okay, Logic, look at me. Is it okay if I touch you? Logic?”

He wasn’t responding. He didn’t even seem as if he could hear Anxiety at all, he just continued to stare off at the wall, eyes miles away. And Anx had never seen him like this, he was usually the sharp one, the clear-headed one, he was the one that usually helped _him_ through this, what was he supposed to _do—_

He took a deep breath. Two. Three.

Okay. He could handle this.

And normally he would never _ever_ resort to this, but. Desperate times. So, without his permission, he took Logic into his lap, sighing in relief when he felt his muscles relaxing slightly instead of tensing.

And Anxiety had no idea what would help Logic in this situation, only what Logic would do for him, what would work if _he_ were the one lying on the floor completely consumed by the drowning feeling, that feeling he could barely describe. But right now, that had to be enough. It just _had to be._ It wasn’t as if he could ask Logic for help, _Logic,_ the trait who was struggling to just _breathe and exist_ at the moment.

So he did the best he could with how heavy his chest felt, with how much it felt like something was tearing at his heart, ripping it to unrecognizable _shreds_. He murmured comforting words, attempting _~~failing~~_ to control the quiver in his voice as he spoke.

Logic, without thinking, leaned into him, finally starting to at least hear Anxiety's words. The smoky dullness in his eyes created by the fires residing in his stomach and his chest were beginning to recede, suggesting that _maybe_ Anxiety’s soothing words were starting to take effect. After a few minutes (an eternity) of this, some clarity returned to the intellectual’s eyes.

“That’s right, you’re okay now. We’re okay, we’re fine. You’re gonna be okay, you’re doing so well.” Anxiety continued to whisper, gently pulling more and more light from the deep recesses of Logic’s mind, guiding it to his widened eyes.

And Logic finally _finally_ started to respond, nodding as his breaths became more controlled, more even, as his vision cleared.

The dark clouds blocking the view of the beautiful night’s sky began to shrink off to the corners of the room.

"You're doing so good, you've got this, you've got this," Anxiety kept saying, over and over.

And at last. At _last_ he seemed to become aware of his surroundings, began to question his surroundings. There was a dim curiosity in him, and though it was a candlelight as opposed to his usual crown fire’s worth, Anxiety was going to take what he could get.

As Logic began to drowsily examine their surroundings, he was mostly greeted by the color black. Black carpet, black walls (or, were they grey…?); but he was also greeted by the unfamiliar feeling associated with a place one had never visited before. And his thoughts may be a tad fuzzy at the moment, but given these facts, he had an inkling of where they might be.

Anx sighed in relief, letting out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“Hey – hey, there you are. Welcome back, you did so well.”

The strained smile on his lips was easily seen through, like a mask that had been worn thin, but his eyes were the true indicator of how worried he truly was.

Logic nodded, forcing a few steadying breaths before he went to speak, knowing (and silently thanking) that Anxiety could read his lips.

_Are you okay?_

He had never felt so out of control before, especially when he was so used to this… _situation_ being reversed. So he had to make sure Anxiety was okay too, just to assure himself.

Anxiety paused to consider.

"…Yeah, I'm fine. I should be asking you that," he gave off a mirthless chuckle, and the relief coloring his voice was poignant. He just held Logic closer, getting a simple nod in response.

_Yeah, I'm okay now, but..._

But he didn’t want to think about it, didn’t want to … _talk_ … about it. And besides, his curiosity was getting the better of him.

Logic picked up more details as he looked around this time. Everything was black or monochrome somehow, which didn't much surprise him, what with where he thought (no, _knew)_ he was. The only color he _did_ see was the small collection of onesies in the corner, and surprisingly, the ceiling. It looked like a real-time display of the Milky Way galaxy, with occasional comets shooting past.

_Is… is this your room?_

Anxiety flinched. He had known that question was coming, and he hadn't even been asked the ever-important one of 'how did we get here?' yet, but it was only a matter of time.

"Yeah, it is." He sighed, looking up to the sight above them. There were a few storm clouds rolling at the edges, but they seemed calm enough for now. _Good_.

It wasn’t like they could rain on them, as the ceiling was only a visual thing, but that meant their moods truly were recovering. He turned his attention back to Logic.

_I usually can't find this place when I'm calm._

He gazed at the ceiling, a little amazed (though he'd never admit it) at how creatively he'd decorated his room. Logic never would have dreamed up something like a ceiling that seemed to reflect the circumstances. It was ingenious, really.

“No, you wouldn't have. I had hoped you would _never_ find this room, to be honest.”

Logic frowned.

_Why not? It's rather nice in here, nicer than I thought it'd be._

Logic didn’t even seem to catch the half-insult in his words, but that was okay. Anxiety didn't notice anyways, as he was already lost in melancholic thought.

Anxiety squeezed his eyes shut, wishing upon the stars above them that he could just shrink into nothingness, that he would never have to have this conversation, that he’d never _ever_ have to voice the words he was about to speak, _especially_ to Logic.

But when had wishing ever helped _him?_

“Because... because, well…” he swallowed around the dryness in his throat.

“Because you can't find it unless you've truly felt despair. Unless you've truly felt worthless, unless…”

Unless you’ve been _broken._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EYYYYY LOOK WHO'S BACK  
> spoiler alert: it me lol  
> Anyways, huge thanks to @analogicality-sanders, who is at this point basically a co-author. Not even basically. He is. You're a huge help, thank you so muchhhhhhhhh  
> Also, this is unedited as of right now so you guys have fun with that (I'll edit tomorrowwwwwwww)  
> Peace,  
> Rel out :D


	10. The Aftermath.

To say it ran silent would be redundant, since one of the two couldn’t speak at all, but the sentiment of the statement rang loudly in the air. Logic would be lying if he said he didn’t feel worthless right now: because he was. He needed his voice, his Influence. Without it, he couldn’t counteract Prince’s wild daydreams, Morality’s ironically fanciful plans. Sometimes, even Anxiety’s spider-traps of woven nightmares and thoughts needed tearing down, but without his voice…  

_There really was no point to him, was there?_

And… and that was only one side of this whole mess, wasn’t it? Forget _him,_ what about Anxiety living in a room that _required_ self-hatred and fear and _hurt_ to even enter?

Anxiety tensed, feeling the waves of horrible, horrible helplessness rolling off of his best friend. He felt all of the shattered glass shards of his friend’s formerly intact psyche digging into his heart and soul and bleeding _hate, and—_

He shook his head, eyes widening.

“No— no, you are _not worthless._ You’re gonna be the one to figure this all out, you’re gonna be the one to save us, we need you. _I_ need you. Your voice does _not_ define you, we can write things down, I can translate, but _god, you are not worthless.”_

Logic sighed, his uncertainty dancing in his eyes and in his aura. Even if he was right, even if he wasn’t an insignificant unworthy _waste of space—_

 _…What was he supposed to do?_ He couldn’t figure out that black hole (whatever it was) right now, he couldn’t even _think_ right now, but Anx had said it himself, _he had to, he had to, he_ had to—

What was he supposed to _do?_

Anxiety took a deep breath, forcing the horrid grey emotion that was rising up his throat to heel. He had just realized what he had said, the toll it could take on Logic— _no pressure, much?_ He immediately felt guilty: How could he? How dare he add to the already too-large pile of worry?

But _no._ He couldn’t allow himself to be swallowed by the panic, not right now, even if the things Logic was thinking about himself was making him sick to his stomach, even if his worry was expanding in his head so that it felt like actual physical pressure. _He had to fix this._

He needed to keep a level head, he needed to rationalize. Because if Logic couldn’t do it for himself, then maybe, _maybe,_ he could help.

“Right now… right now, you don’t need to do anything. You’re thinking in a way that’s overwhelming. Remember all those times you’ve told me to _not_ do that? One thing at a time. Breathe. We don’t have to figure it out this very second, and you don’t have to figure it out alone.”

Logic’s thoughts began to slow. They weren’t chasing each other anymore, they weren’t working against him. He took into consideration Anxiety’s words.

He had a point. He’s led Anxiety away from that sort of mindset countless hundreds of times, he couldn’t go around making the very same mistake. He must’ve been absolutely radiating negative emotion, as well, because how else would Anx have known exactly what he was thinking?

 _Okay,_ he mouthed. _Then where do we start?_

He fidgeted with the ends of Anx's sweater, nervous and unused to being on this side of these questions.

“Alright… alright, the first step should be to get Sir Sings-A-Lot to his room, before he screams himself hoarse.” He chuckles, pulling at his hair. He wasn’t used to being the voice of reason either, and while this was the first logical step, it wasn’t going to be easy on either of their mental states. His entire _being_  was telling him to _stop, bad idea, you’re only gonna get yelled at again—_

But it’s what Logic would do.

Logic sat up, straightening his appearance and attempting to make himself look less upset, less frazzled. He had to appear calm, collected. He had to look normal ~~as normal as he could with his glasses gone, his cheeks tearstained, his tie crooked—~~

_I can handle that. I’m not letting him near you._

“No… no, we’ll both go. Stronger together, yeah?” He gave a weak grin. He was still supremely worried about Logic, this was his first ever attack, and he _knows_ how easy it is to slip back into the ever-circling poisonous ideas, how easy it was to succumb to the flesh-eating vultures of overthought.

He _needed_ to be there. To make sure he was okay, and to ease his own mind, Prince be damned.

Logic gave a hesitant look, but he knew Anx well enough to know that he wasn’t going to let him go alone. He knew what concern looked like on the trait, and it was written on his every feature at the moment. He was grateful, though. Prince was going to be a handful and they both knew it. He nodded, stood up, and with one final glance around his best friend’s beautiful (monstrous, inhumane) room, he pulled them both to the Commons.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we were both tired and we'll edit tomorrow  
> looooool also sorry this is mostly filler  
> important filler but y'know filler nonetheless  
> -Rel  
> no comment  
> -PJ


	11. An Objective Completed.

Prince was exactly where they had left him, and he was  _fuming._

"There you two are! Why are you _siding_ with him, Logic? Look at what he's done to you, he's a menace, look at what he's done to _me!"_

Anxiety said not a thing, reminding himself that Prince wasn't in his right mind at the moment, that he was more than what he thought of him. He looked strictly at the floor, deciding not to pay him any more attention than what it took to move him to his room.

He'd put up his thick walls, now, and he wasn't gonna let _anything_ through. He glanced at Logic, gauging his reaction to Prince's little rant.

 Logic was even angrier at the Prince than before, if that was possible, and every part of him wanted to _scream_ at him. Because Prince was wrong, so _very_ wrong. But he knew well enough from earlier that if he tried to properly talk too much, he'd quickly fall into frustration and tears, so he just glared and started to gently pull Prince to his room.

He needed rest. He needed to calm down. They _all_ did. And Lo? He needed to be away from all the painful, headache-inducing stress.

Anxiety walked behind the two, making sure that Prince followed Logic. Prince spluttered, being unused to being ignored so blatantly. Nor could he see much sense through his anger and illness.

"Where are you taking me?" He finally gave in, huffing frustrated at the two.

"Your room, genius. You need to _rest_. And to calm the _hell down."_ Anxiety’s voice was a bit colder, almost icy, bore resemblance to the glacier that took down the mighty Titanic; and yet, still somewhat normal, reserved, sarcastic. 

"How dare you? After what you've just done, tell me to calm down?" Prince still sounded just as angry as before, renewed by Anxiety’s words after he’d forced himself to be civil.

Logic didn't think before breaking his control, he couldn't help it. He was just so _angry_ and _frustrated_ — he stopped in his tracks and faced Prince with a set jaw, frustration and the dulled smoky panic in his eyes. 

_Prince, I don't see anyone else yelling here, and it's not his fault anyways. There's something going on in that room, and I don't know how, but we've got to fix it before you and Dad fade, and I never get my voice back. Back off of Anxiety!_

He could only hope that Prince understood any of that. He was shaking with the intensity of his built-up anger, the fire he’d been trying to control, that he’d failed to control.

"Logic, it's _fine_. Let's just keep going." Anxiety had understood his friend, but he didn't know how much of it the Prince has caught. He knew that if Prince said something along the lines of not being able to understand Logic that he would get even more frustrated, and maybe even that horrible downing feeling— _worthlessness_ — would come back. And he did not want to feel any more of  _that_  than he already had.

"What's going on in That Room, then?" Prince had instantly gone down at least a few notches, even if he’s still incredibly upset, maybe a little murderous.

"Let's get you back to your room first." Anxiety rolled his eyes, doing it more to show Logic that he was fine than to display any actual sass. "Not like we've been trying to do that for the past day or anything."

Logic was genuinely surprised that he'd been understood by Prince, and didn't respond at first, opening the door to Prince's room. He wasn't sure if he was more curious in his own right about what exactly that thing was doing, or if he was still too peeved to peacefully converse with Prince for how he'd treated Anxiety. 

Though he definitely noted how Anxiety had spoken, and seemed to relax a little. His friend was fine, his friend was fine. Well. Maybe not…  _fine_ , but as close to fine as they were going to get at that moment.

Anxiety took over leading the Prince, making sure not to make any contact with his skin. He plopped him down on his bed, honestly not caring how he flinched away from him when he positioned him. He was too tired for this, quite honestly. 

"Yeah, there's something in The Room— yes, _That_ Room— and we're pretty sure that's what's causing this whole mess. We just have to get rid of it." Anxiety was just waiting for Prince to be satisfied so they could both just— go back to Logic's room, or his if he'd prefer. They needed rest too, ~~they needed their safe space~~ he could feel a headache coming on from all the panicking and crying they'd been doing.

_We can all talk about it tomorrow, you need to sleep and relax, Prince._

Logic didn't mention just how exhausted they were, and he was doing his best to be civil as he could manage. 

He stood up, fighting back his panic-headache with swords made of determination and stubbornness, giving Anxiety a Look that said they really needed some sleep themselves. He was about to drop where he stood.

"Logic's right. We can do this tomorrow, you need to sleep." Anxiety glanced back at Logic, definitely conveying how much he agreed. They both _really needed_ their rest as well, and there was no way Anxiety was going to let Logic stay up any longer after… _that._ He headed out of Prince's door, not wanting him to see how Logic and Anxiety were likely headed toward the same location.

Logic stayed a moment longer before he left the room, near collapsing from his exhaustion. 

  _My room tonight?_

He didn't really fancy being alone right now, and going back to Anxiety's room would only remind the pair what had brought him there and his ~~currently suppressed~~ emotions. Emotions so intense that he was too scared to properly process them.

"Definitely." He sighed, grabbing Logic's arm and transporting them both to the familiar walls of Logic's room.

Once in the safety of his room, Logic seemed to relax a little, even if his head was pounding. He found himself pulling Anxiety in his arms comfortably on his bed, out of words to say, even if he could say them at all. Now that he could think far more clearly, he knew worrying about things they _just couldn't handle_ right now would _not_ help, and he just wanted the comfort of their normal lives back. That’s all he wanted right now, as useless a hope it seemed.

Anxiety, for the first time that day, found himself able to relax; and he did so completely. The stress of the day came to him then in the form of lethargic _exhaustion,_ and the warm arms of Logic helped convince him that he was finally,  _finally_  safe. It suddenly felt like any other night the two spent in each other's company, instead of the black pit of plain… _bad ~~horrible terrifying horrific scary~~_ that day had been.

 …And while Logic knew there was still danger lurking, he also knew that, for once, he _felt_ safe. Safe enough to finally sleep, and let the remaining headache fade away like fog in the sunshine.

 And together, the two drifted off from their hellish nightmare of a day to their nightmares.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i actually can't believe we pulled this off,,,,, PJ wrote this and i edited it in like a half hour i did this during school kiddos i'm so happy i actually got to wriiiiiiiiiiiite (well,, kinda,,, most credit for this chapter is PJ because he's awesome) :D  
> -Rel  
> ummmm sorry bout the late update  
> -PJ


	12. Hope.

Anxiety woke in the early hours of the morning, jolting awake before Logic ever had the chance to recover his energy from the exhausting mess that was yesterday. He had been awakened by… things not as pleasant as the cotton-candy dreams he hoped that Logic was having ~~(he wasn’t)~~.

…That was fine by Anxiety, though. He had errands to run, things to do, people to see. Wiping at his eyes and horribly smudging his (admittedly, already horribly smudged) makeup, he silently and gently untangled himself from Logic and sunk down, deciding that going out the door was too risky- it was fraught with the dangers of squeaking hinges and creaking floorboards. He needed Logic to sleep, and he needed to be quiet- it was near the witching hour, and that strange miasma of needing _absolute quiet_ had already settled on the world.

_~~Too bad that that feeling is all too easily turned reality for Lo, now—~~ _

No. He can’t… he can’t do this right now. So he sinks up, shaking his head, quickly traversing the hallway without giving himself time to think of what had happened there just _hours_ before. Swiftly, his eyes locked on what he’d come here for— Lo’s glasses. He stooped down to grab them and sunk back down, knowing that he had one other destination before he could return to the safety and comfort of Logic’s room. Until then… he stuffed the spectacles into the soft pocket of his jacket, knowing the lenses would be safe from scratches there.

He rose up through the mindscape and through the solid ground of the stairs. He… he didn’t really want to visit Thomas right now, it was… too painful, but it was his job. And it seemed as if… he was the only one who _could,_ anymore. He padded up the stairs quietly, cautiously— not as if Thomas could hear him, besides; but he acted more for the superstition of morning than anything. Once he arrived, he saw as much as he had expected, though not quite what he had hoped for— Thomas lying in bed and scrolling through some social media or other, his face a mask of indifference. And it wasn’t as if Anxiety had anything against spending time on the internet, as that was something he did himself, but it was _four in the morning._

“Oh, Thomas…” he sighed. “Please take care of yourself a little, today?” he murmured the words, unsure if he was even heard.

But he had to go. He should probably get back before Logic woke up.

And so with that, he departed, carrying the weight of his uselessness with him.

…When he returned to Logic’s room, though, he was in for a surprise.

“… _Dad?”_

Morality smiled from inside the door, waving as Logic shrugged helplessly from the bed.

_I have no idea either._

…And Anxiety didn’t know if he had enough energy to _deal_ with anyone but Logic today, and this was certainly unexpected, but he didn’t know what to do about it. What _could_ he do about it? Logic seemed fine with him being there, so…

So he simply sat across from Logic on the bed, too out of emotional energy to even care remotely about what his makeup looked like at the moment. It was just Dad, anyway. Sure, he shunned him too, usually. But he was a lot nicer about it than Prince was.

“Oh yeah, almost forgot.” Anxiety murmured, taking Lo’s glasses out of his pocket and taking a moment to clean them with the sleeve of his jacket before placing them in their rightful place on Logic’s face.

Logic smiled at the act.

_Thank you._

"…I found some things to help, I think, I overheard some of what happened yesterday, Logic, so I thought this would be perfect." he smiled at the pair of them as he sat on the floor in the middle of the room, setting some books down in a semi-circle in front of him.

Logic got up agonizingly slowly, stretching as he took the few steps it took to reach Morality. He sat across from the trait and gestured for Anxiety to join them. Anxiety crawled out of bed, trying for some comic relief. He walked his hands over to Logic, but kept his legs on the bed until the _very_ last second, until he finally fell off and rolled over to Logic and Morality, ending up sprawled on his back with his sweater twisted.

"What are we doing? Wait, what _is_ this?” he took a closer look at the books Dad had provided and he clapped a hand over his mouth.

“Oh my god. ASL books? Sign Language? Oh my god, Morality, you’re a genius!"

_This is incredible, thank you!_ Logic mouthed, on the verge of grinning: at least his counterparts could understand him like this, even if Thomas couldn't.

Morality smiled. “I thought we could maybe all learn it together, so we could still talk!” he opened one of the books and started suggesting where they might start, quick to help Logic however he could. He’d obviously already perused the books a few times on his own. Logic was _smiling._

Anxiety gave a small laugh, basking in the relative okay-ness of this moment. He could almost convince himself that their normal life was back, with Logic being as inquisitive and curious as he was, with that spark, that crown fire restored in his eyes. He flipped one of the books open, looking through all of the different pictures and explanations.

Logic did much the same, flipping through the pages, nearly back to his old self: eager to learn all he could to make things easier for everyone, including himself.

Morality was just glad to see everyone a little happier, even if they were …worse for wear.

…But this was all before their quiet calm was interrupted by a certain royal characteristic. They each heard the footsteps making their way nearer and nearer to Logic's room, but none of them dared break the silence, holding their breath to see if maybe, just maybe, he would go away on his own.

It was not to be.

The door opened.

Logic looked up and stood, not even signing or mouthing a _single word_ before he shut the door in his face. Now that he wasn't so tired, panicked, or fighting a headache, he had _loads_ of room for anger. He was not going to so quickly forgive Prince for how he'd spoken to Anxiety. Heavy silence hung in the room.

"Ummm... so, how about that weather?" Anxiety tried to lighten the mood, and wasn't that just _strange?_ Morality chuckled, so he must’ve been doing _something_ right, at least.

"I know you guys are in there." Prince sighed from the other side of the door.

"We figured, thanks." Anxiety called back, rolling his eyes. He looked to Logic and Morality, mouthing _‘what gave us away?’_ and wondering what Dad must be thinking right now. He wasn't jumping to the door at Prince's arrival, which struck him as odd. Maybe he’d heard the fight yesterday...?

Logic forced a not-there laugh, and Morality seemed to be conflicted. He'd wanted to get up, but he _had_ overheard their argument yesterday, and he had to admit that Princey was _not_ in line with some of the things he'd said. He wasn't Anxiety's biggest fan, but he also knew that the trait still cared about Thomas, and wouldn't do this to him, wouldn’t tear from everyone what they valued most.

Anx grinned at Logic's laugh, but decided not to string the Prince along any farther.

"What do you want?"

"…Aren't you going to open the door?"

"Aren't you gonna stop sounding like _Frozen_ in idiot form? No, we're not. Why are you here?"

He knows he's being a little short with the other boy, but this was a safe space. It was pushing Anx's comfort zone to have _Dad_ in here, let alone the Prince at the door. He glanced at Logic, asking him with his eyes what he wanted him to do.

**_I don't want him here, not right now._** Logic told the two in his room, trying to sign it as he mouthed.

Finally, Morality was the one to stand, go to the door. He usually wasn't one for confrontation, but he'd really been enjoying time with Anx and Logic. It'd been too long since they hung out, since before Prince fell ill. But someone needed to remind Prince that he wasn't the center of the universe, that he didn’t hang the stars, and that he wasn't always right.

"I'll go talk to him."

"Thank you," Anxiety sighed, laying down next to Logic and closing his eyes. At least _he_ didn't have to deal with it, and Morality was much more likely to get somewhere with the bull-headed trait than either he or Logic was.

**_Good luck._ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEYA LOOKIT F L U F F!! ~Rev
> 
> Be warned, that's all the proper fluff you'll be getting in this story >;) ~PJ
> 
> I MEAn there is the ending,,,, (but he's p much right l o l ) :D ~R
> 
> Hope you enjoyed, lovelies!! Rel and Peej out!!


	13. When Hell Freezes Over.

Logic looked back to the book in his hand, distracting himself with signing. It was the easiest thing to focus on right now, what with _that_ conversation coming on as fast and dreaded as a hurricane. Morality went out the door, the one trait willing, at that moment, to face the winds and the rain that Logic and Anxiety had been battered with for days ~~(all their lives, really).~~

"Princey, they're really not in the mood to see you right now, and frankly I understand why." He was as gentle as he could be, but…  
"Well, they let _you_ in." He retorted. "And they said we would talk today, about what happened last night." His words were alive with bravado, but his eyes portrayed his worry. And… guilt? Good. He needed to realize his actions were _wrong,_ that in this case, _he_ was wrong.  
Morality paused, hesitating— how to go about this? "…And we will, later, but right now, they're still upset at how you handled last night. You knew Anxiety was upset, having an _attack_ , and still you yelled at him. I'm pretty sure they both had an attack last night, actually..."  
"…An attack?" Prince finally replied, confused. He had heard Logic reference something like that before, when Anxiety had fallen to the ground after touching his hand, but he wasn't exactly sure what they were talking about.

"What…?"  
"An anxiety attack. He doesn't just represent Thomas' fear and anxiety, he _has_ that, and you pushed him into that. Don't you think they were terrified by Logic's voice being taken? Of _course_ they were upset. And yelling at them only made it worse."

…And while this talk happened as if the two were not even there ( ~~that was always _always_ how conversations went around here~~ ), Logic and Anxiety could hear them quite clearly.  
Anxiety froze, looked up from what he had been doing— which, he’d been learning how to make a joke in ASL (Logic, I am your father)— and held his breath. This was so not a conversation for this early in the morning. Or ever, really— he was _fine_ without Prince knowing—  
"He… _What?"_ And okay, now Prince was feeling it, the _guilt,_ a horrid beast clawing at his heart. "So like… those anxiety attacks that Thomas has? He… has those too?"  
Both of the ‘colder’ traits had become as like ice on the floor, still, fragile, feeling as if little drips of themselves were melting onto the unforgiving and uncaring ground. They couldn’t do anything but listen, but… Logic did not want to think about that. He did _not_ want to think about how terrible last night had felt, what he'd had to feel to find Anx's room.

How much he’d had to hate _himself—_

The frown on his face became more pronounced than before.  
"Yes," Morality said, trying to speak softer. He could feel the waves of almost _overwhelming_ discomfort coming from the two in the room. "Where did you think Thomas’s came from?" he spoke in a far more serious tone than Prince was used to, than he felt comfortable hearing. Dad was supposed to be the happy one, telling stupid jokes and puns to make them laugh at the idiocy of it all, to take their minds off whatever was bothering them. That was even why he'd brought over sign language books. He knew they needed something to make them feel productive, better.

So no, the Prince was _not_ used to this tone of discipline and— and was that disappointment?

"Um... _um…_ I don't know. God."

…He seemed to suddenly realize something, and his hand flew to his forehead.

"And you said Logic had one last night? God. God, I…" _What have I done?_

“I'm pretty sure. I couldn’t find them after you'd yelled at Anxiety; they were just gone, who _knows_ where. But I can't imagine that they were too good after… that."  
Anxiety stiffened a little at the mention of _who knows where,_ because _he_ knew, and because _Logic_ knew, and because he was reminded of the… implications of that. But he said nothing. Instead, he decides to practice his signing with Logic— that was what they were meant to be doing, besides, and he had just found the word for asshole.

He was sure he could put _that_ one to use right away.  
"…Yeah..." Prince trailed off. Dad had given him much to think about, indeed. "Just... just tell me when they're ready to talk to me, please?" He worded it like a question. He was beginning to realize that he didn't _deserve_ to speak with either of them.  
"Yeah, see you when hell freezes over." came a muffled shout from Logic’s room, and then a sharp "-ow!"  
"…I've been asked to inform you that we'll be ready in a few hours."  
Logic managed to jokingly smile at Anxiety when he jabbed him in the ribs at his comment. And his mood lifted a little more when they heard Prince walking away, like heavy rain lightening into a playful pitter-patter, and it felt almost… hopeful. He was able to go back to signing, even if it was a little more intense. Now, he had something to focus on, something to make the situation a little better for the time being. And they didn’t have the immediate threat of Prince’s… _colorful_ screams over their head.  
When Morality came back in he was greeted by both Logic and Anxiety signing _' **thank you** '_, grateful expressions glued to their faces. He smiled at the two, glad that he could be of any help ~~horrified that he had ever let himself and the Prince treat them like this—~~ and situated himself back on the floor. Soon, he too was swept up into the book, and his mood lifted and brightened to its usual sunny state, and he entertained the two ‘darker’ traits with puns in ASL for hours to come. ~~~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh my god i am so sorry this is late it's all my fault too rae had his part done a month agooooo a c k -Rev


	14. the real knights in shining armor.

When they were ready- ~~but when were they ever ready for the~~ ~~_whirlwind_ of emotion and rage and sickly bitterness that was the Prince, when were they ~~ _~~ever-~~   _ they reconvened in the Commons, which is where the Prince had decided to wait for them all anyway. He thought that maybe he’d start heeding Logic’s wisdom more, save himself a second trip back to his room. He really did need to preserve his strength, he’d only been able to walk again since a couple of days ago- what if he collapsed, got trapped outside his nice comfy bedroom? He shuddered at the thought- funny, how _now_ was when Logic’s words were beginning to be heard.

Prince laid on the couch, as lost in his thoughts as one might be in an enchanted forest, so far away that he nearly jumped in surprise as the other three plopped down onto the stuffed chairs nearby. Morality looked to Anx and Lo to take the lead.

An awkward silence took hold, rendered unbroken as seconds ticked on to minutes.

But then Anx cleared his throat, not quite meeting anyone’s eyes.

“Well, um, like we said before. There’s something in the Room. And when I went to go check on Thomas the other day, he… he wasn’t doing so hot.”

 _And we all know what’s happened to me._ Logic mouthed. _And what’s happening to the two of you._

“Yeah,” Prince’s voice was like a croak, and Anx’s mind flashed to the story of the _Princess and the Frog,_ morbidly thinking of how this was a sick and twisted kind of joke - in their story, when the prince turns into a frog, there was no prince around to save him.

He shook his head to rid himself of the thought.

“...is that all? What do you think, Logic?”

Lo jumped a tad in surprise, wide eyes locking with Prince’s for but a moment. Morality looked to Logic and nodded, kindness in his eyes.

Logic took a deep breath, looking to Anx meaningfully. He nodded, he knew he was to play translator. When he opened his mouth again, Anxiety echoed his words almost as they came tumbling from Lo’s mind.

“What we’ve found so far is this: Thomas’s acting strangely, there’s a thing that almost looks like a black hole in That Room, and it’s affecting us each differently.

It’s taking the life from Creativity, Hope, and Deep Emotion - that’s you two. It’s taken the Voice of Reason from me; I don’t have any influence without it, as you know. These things should help us figure out what this is and how to deal with it.”

“Sounds like… a rough character.” Prince tried to crack the joke, but instead, his voice crackled painfully once again, and he winced.

“Seems so…” Anx’s murmured, eyes to the floor. This thing… it was taking so much from the people he cared about, so crushingly _much._ Where was his retribution? What saved him from the fate of his best friend, of the light traits?

“Well… whatever it is, I’m sure we can do this! Things’ll be okay again, I’m sure of it.”

Morality’s bright smile and words brought a little life back into the room, and they all tried to give him a soft sort of smile - and most of them succeeded, thankful as always for the dad’s input.

“Yeah, definitely.” Prince spoke quietly, obviously trying to preserve his vocal chords, but coming from him, it seemed… off.

“Yeah, I… agree.” Prince locked eyes with Anx, the barest hint of a smile in them. They so rarely agreed.

 _Alright, there are a few options._ Lo cut in, gently tapping Anx’s arm.

_But the one I’m leaning toward right now is…_

The room rang with its silence, all eyes on Logic.

_I think it’s Depression._

*

_I mean, think about it. It makes sense, Anx says that Thomas was struggling to even get out of bed, and all the other stuff… what it’s taking, I mean._

_It makes sense._

The silence marched on, Anxiety too stunned to remember that he was supposed to be translating. But that was okay, because it seemed as if the others had understood him loud and clear anyway.

The resignation started creeping into Anx’s psyche. This? What could he do about _this,_ other than make it worse? What could even be done-

Lo put a reassuring hand on his knee, and his eyes were exactly the calming beacons he’d needed.

“Then what do we- what do we _do?”_

Morality’s question was left unanswered for a long time, thoughts racing through each trait’s head so intensely that they started bleeding through to one another.

_Get help? Talk to friends, get help, staycalmohgod - breathe. Get help._

“...But then, how are we supposed to…?” Prince gestured to his own legs, and to Morality, and to Logic. “None of us have any Influence left to spare.”

All eyes fell to Anxiety, who flinched and shrunk away from their ~~glares~~ stares.

“I- but I- I would hurt him worse.”

~~_wouldn’t I?_ ~~

_I think you’re our only chance here, Anx._

“I…

...how?”

_I think your Influence is enough to counter it. At least, for a little while. Remember when you went up there? You had him eat something, and then Prince had a momentary improvement in his health._

“Oh, you mean when I could walk again?” Prince asked. Lo and Anx jumped, having forgotten that he was even there.

“...Yeah.”

“That was you? I… Thank you.”

Prince thought back to what he had done with his newfound ability to walk and winced.

“I’m. So sorry about all that, by the way.”

Anxiety tensed, resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut and sink down and away from… this, all of this, to his room; so cruelly beautiful in its design. After a moment, his rational thought won out, and he managed to force the words from his throat.

“...Later. M’not talking to you about this right now.”

“...Of course.”

The dad gave Anxiety a proud little smile, and it almost made him feel okay with standing up for himself.

“Right, so… what’s the game plan?” Morality rubbed tiredly at his eyes. “I don’t know how to… what to…”

 _I think, for now, everyone needs rest._ Logic mouthed, seeming to sense the steadily increasing tension in the room. Anx sighed in relief and quickly continued on his train of thought.

“Yeah, it’s… it’s been a long day for us all.”

_And we can iron out the details later, Anx and I. You both need rest, I think, just like with any other illness. We’ll keep you updated._

“Thank you. Both of you.”

Anx and Lo were surprised by the gesture - Prince? Thanking them, with what was suspiciously alike sincerity? But the Prince smiled at them genuinely, his teeth hiding the crushing guilt that was cracking his heart from the inside. He… he had been so rude and angry and _awful_ to these traits, traits that were already facing horrors aplenty, traits that had been working on finding a way to cure the horrid sickness he now carried. He’d hurt them, and yet…

They kept fighting on, like the knights and princes of old. In the face of great danger, they fought; though obviously tired they soldiered on.

And he’d been nothing but an ass.

_Later. M’not talking to you about this right now._

It echoed in his head.

Later. He said he could talk to him about it later.

“Just… _thank you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no excuses other than I fell out of love with the Sanders Sides for a while, but then the new video pulled me back in! I'm so sorry, lovelies, that this took so long, but I fear that if I'd written it any sooner the quality would've been affected. Thank you all for being so patient with us!


	15. if a tree fades into a forest, and no one is around, does it make a sound?

Later came, as it does. Time always marches on, and Anxiety wasn’t one to ignore something that would come ‘later’, as if it wasn’t real, as if the time spent was meaningless. So it was with this in mind that he trudged up to the Prince’s room a mere couple of days after the traits’ big discussion on what they should do next. They’d decided that Anx would go up to the surface at least once a day, make sure Thomas had eaten and gotten dressed at least. There wasn’t much else they could do, as even Anxiety’s influence seemed to grow more and more hollow by the day.

After his duty on this particular day, he was feeling… less grim than usual. Thomas had eaten without much fuss, which was more than on average, so he was counting that as a win. He figured that now was as good a time as any to speak to the royal.

He knocked tentatively.

“Hey, Prince. S’it later yet?”

The Prince’s heart jumped into his throat - oh god, he really hopes he won’t fuck this up for himself.

“Uh, yeah, though I rather think that you should be the one to make that distinction.” 

Anx gave a little hidden grin behind the safety of the closed door and a sardonic huff. 

He opened the door.

“Uh, hey.” Prince smiled, but the twisting of his hands around and around each other betrayed his nerves.

That, and reminded Anxiety of a stereotypical Disney villain, and he tried not to laugh at the connection.

“Yeah, hi.” They stared awkwardly for a few moments.

“...So. Anxiety, huh.” 

Anx grimaced. He knew what he was saying - not his name, anyway. He’d phrased it like a question, and he knew that Dad had told him, so…

“Yeah.”

“...How long?”

This question was unanticipated, and Anxiety shot the royal an incredulous look.

“Always.”

The Prince flinches a tad at that.

“So… all this time, when I’ve…”

Anxiety could feel where this conversation was going, what with how loudly the royal trait’s mind was working.

_ All the times I’ve blamed you, you were going through the exact thing Thomas was? _

His only response to his unasked question was a curt “Yes,” and an empty room with the door tightly closed.

*

But he came back the next day, a bowl of soup clutched tightly between his hands.

*

And the next, and the next, and the next.

*

Anx grinned. He was having a pretty good day, for once. Things were stable, Thomas seemed to be improving (ever-so slowly, but still), and he and the Royal of the mindscape were on the fast track to being… pretty good friends, actually. It had been an interesting few weeks, to say the absolute least. Anx had already shared his music playlist and everything, which had been… daunting, but the secret it had revealed had been worth the baring of his soul.

_ The Prince laughed prettily, almost melodically. Anx’s cheeks burned. _

_ “We don’t have to listen to it.” he jabbed at the screen. “It was a stupid idea anyway.” _

_ “No, no, that’s not it!” The royal was still giggling. “It’s that- wait, I’ll show you.” _

_ He reached for his own glitz-and-glam phone and turned on the screen. His music app (that was always,  _ always  _ on) appeared as a banner on the still-locked device, and the band that ran across it was- _

_ “Oh my god. MyChem?” _

_ “I really  _ was  _ jealous, what can I say? G Way is both a drama queen and an icon.” _

_ “Emo nightmare.” Anx grinned, pushing lightly on Prince’s shoulder. _

_ “Right back at’cha, Panic! at the Everywhere.” _

He smiled fondly at the memory, and at how he’d animatedly relayed it to Lo afterwards. It’d gotten him one of the realest smiles from him since The Incident.

The reminiscence carried him all the way to the Prince’s doorstep.

He readjusted his hold on Prince’s dinner and knocked.

“Yo, meals on wheels is here.”

Silence. Funny, he was usually up this time of day, always armed with a playful quip and a tired grin.

“Princey? Ya sleepin’ in there?”

No answer.

“...Prince?”

_ N o  a n s w e r . _

_ Oh god. _

“...I’m coming in, okay?” 

He pushed through the drowning fires in his chest and through the royal’s doorway, and -  _ and - _

And the gasp and the shatter of the bowl slipping through thin fingers and to the ground was only heard by one set of ears, and no one was there to hear the choked scream but himself as his knees crashed to the ground and sunk into tepid leftover soup and onto jagged ceramic shards.

_ Oh god oh no oh god no - _

*

_ his life force was fading… _

_ f a  d   i    n    g . . . _

_ gone. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey kids, it's been awhile 
> 
> and now, the real fun begins >:)


	16. s͉ ̪O͠ ̤̙̮͇̖͎̦̕ ҉̥͉̻̹̯̜̬ ̮̦i̯̝̼̰̜̗ ͈͖̦T̴̻͚̺̠ ̢̺ ̵͔ ͎b̦̟̘̦̦͚ ̙̮̼͎̮E̙g͟ ̫i̜̱̪n̡͎̺͖͙͕̯ ̵ͅS̠̤͜ͅ

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alrighty, guys! I know I'm known for my angst, but this chapter is super bad. I'm not kidding this time. If you think you can handle it and don't want the spoilers, skip the rest of this A/N. If you can be sensitive to / have triggers, read this and seriously consider whether or not reading this chapter is worth it. Always always always put your mental health above your readership, guys!
> 
> Trigger warnings are as follows:  
> (kind of) Character death,   
> Graphic depictions of martyrdom / suicide, suicidal ideations.  
> None of them are going to actually die, you will see them all again, but the rhetoric of this chapter rings of all of this.
> 
> Please stay safe.

It was so

cold.

But- but at the same time.

Where was the fever? 

Where was  _ anything?  _

Gosh, he hopes Anxiety doesn’t start to worry. They were supposed to meet up this morning and this- this wasn’t his room.

Was he dead?

Logic did say- a few weeks in. In the beginning, that he was dying.

Maybe he was right.

Was this purgatory then? He’d deserve it. Probably deserved worse, all things considered, like-

_ Anx, no, don’t do this to me. No, please- _

...Logan?

_ Anx- Anx, no--  _

_ Anxiety! _

_ God please don’t leave me here-! _

*

All was quiet. 

This wasn’t unusual, these days. He could barely make sound at all, after all, and his and Anxiety’s friendship had never been the loudest. The strongest, the surest, the most reliable and warm and secure, sure. But never the loudest. 

Though, Morality had started talking to them more, these days. The Prince, as well. So that had put a little burst of color and at least a small cough of noise in their lives (they were sick, after all, and it was not as if they had the energy or even  _ ability  _ to replicate the old cacophony the warmer traits kept up during the ‘colder’ ones’ isolation, but who is keeping score, anymore. Things were rough and they all needed each other now more than ever.) 

But no, today was quiet. Perhaps even quieter than on average for what has become the norm for the past few weeks, as Logic was left alone here with nothing but his thoughts and metaphor (‘cough of noise’ versus cacophony, really? If it weren’t so cheesy he’d have had to consider writing it down into the little black book he kept of rhymes, beats, and verse. But then, thinking of that book made his heart ache, anyhow.) 

Where was this going? Ah yes. The quiet.

The quiet, the quiet. Something was  _ off _ about this quiet- 

Something… missing, perhaps. 

But he was not left with much time to ponder this, because just as the thought crossed his mind, he heard a blood-curdling  _ scream  _ that could only belong to one trait, one person in this head, because he had never heard him sound like  _ this _ before, but he had glimpsed what that sound might have  _ looked  _ like in panicked eyes and what it might have felt like in a racing heart, and oh god, that sounded like Anx. 

And as a wave of emotion so strong, so  _ raw _ washed over him in rough, jagged fronts that tore at his core in such a way it made his eyes tear up and share his panic, his fear, his absolute grief and terror, it  _ felt  _ like Anxiety, too. 

Oh god. 

What could possibly  _ do  _ this to him…?

But he knew the answer to that question, didn’t he. After all, he  _ was  _ still Logic. Influence be damned.

Oh  _ god. _

He had to get over there  _ now.  _ And how had he ended up on the floor, clutching at the carpets and breathing as shallowly as a puddle after a child stomps the drops free? No matter, he had to sink. He had to sink right this second.

But then.

_ Oh,  _ but then.

A sickeningly calm sense of utter and absolute  _ determination  _ settled upon the ‘scape. One of which Logic had never felt before. 

Perhaps- perhaps this was what martyrs must feel before.

Before--

Before  _ what, Anxiety? Anxiety?! _

And suddenly, the waves - now calmed into ripples, really - changed their point of origin. 

And Logic knew what his Anx planned to do.

_ No. No, no no-- _

He sank to The Room.

*

The blurred red seeped from the black of his jeans to the pure white of Prince’s carpet. Maybe if he blinked enough this would all be a dream.

But no. He’d tried to blink away the tears already, and it hadn’t done anything, hadn’t done anything but clear up the soup, the glass, the  _ blood  _ in his vision that was seeping into the Prince’s floors for a split-second.

He wouldn’t get up just yet. This is less than what he deserved for  _ doing  _ this to him, the jagged ceramic ripping into his knees. He’d been right all along, of course he had, god. What had he done.

He - 

Wait. 

Wait, no.

He - he hadn’t done this. That Thing had. The thing from the room, the black hole. He  _ knew  _ that, he needed to breathe. Okay. 

_ But it didn’t matter didn’t matter didn’t  m a t t e r if it was his fault or not he was  g o n e - _

_ Fuck. _

_ Breathe. _

_ Just treat yourself like you’d treat Lo if he were panicking. Okay. _

He knew the prince wasn’t dead. The lingering fragile dewdrops of his Influence could still be felt, that’s why he hadn’t been tipped off that something was  _ wrong  _ until - until now. Okay. He could do this.

Do - do  _ what  _ though, exactly?

Something.  _ Anything. _

...Wait.

And just like that, in an instant, he understood what he needed to do, like dark galaxies and universes exploding behind his eyes into knowledge, understanding. There had to have been a reason his was the only Influence that was left functioning beside that Thing’s. There had to be a reason why he could still feel Prince, even as faintly as a spider’s silk thread leaving microscopic webs in dark corners. There had to be a reason (besides hopeful hallucinations) as to why he could sometimes still hear tiny, tiny echos of what Lo would have said if he could.

He was still in there.

And he could get him out.

He sank to the Room, approaching the hole with a sort of reverence reserved for book protagonists walking to their destinies. Funny, how this seemed to be his, now. It wasn’t a surprise that his fate was to be suffering, he’d always known that, really. It was surprising, though, that it’d be for something this noble. He’d always been a protector, or tried to be, anyway. It’d just never been anything this… right. Nothing that could ever truly not be mistaken for anything dastardly. But this, he didn't know how anyone could figure this as anything but right. So he let out a hysterical giggle for his end times being not-at-all and yet  _exactly_ what he'd thought they'd be.

But then a shockwave of emotion hit him, and he almost stumbled right into the inky blackness that loomed before him. He cringed and turned around, knowing exactly who to expect.

“Lo...”

_ Please. You’re wrong. _

“You know I’m not.”

_ You have to be. God please no, I am begging you, Anx. _

And - and oh god, those were tears brewing in Logic’s eyes.

“It’s - it’s only logical. I’m the only one who’s been able to affect it. The Prince is in there. I - I have to do this, Lo. I can save us.”

_ I don’t care! -  _ If he’d still had his voice, it would have come out a scream, as it was, he was eerily silent in his fight for his friend’s life, in his symphony of agony. 

_ I don’t care if you think you can do it! I don’t care if it’s logical! I can’t lose you, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t -  _

He was hyperventilating. There were tears dripping down his cheeks and nose and the water was turning his eyes red.

Anx quietly walked over to his first ever friend, to his  _ best  _ friend, and gently took off his glasses.

“You didn’t give me time to warn you this time, either, genius.” he smiled softly, folding them up and placing them in his breast pocket. “You’ll get them smudged again.”

Slowly, delicately, he wiped the tears away from the bags under Lo’s eyes and entwined him in a hug, squeezing him with all the strength he had, squeezing his eyes shut with the realization that this might be the last time he’d do so. But then, slowly, surely, he pulled away, letting his hands trace down Lo’s arms as he did. Logic’s eyes were shut tight, his breathing irregular as he tried to control it.

_ Please.  _ He mouthed, reverently and mournfully as a prayer. 

_ Please don’t do this. _

He only smiled and began his inching toward the hole again, slowly letting go of Logic’s arm.

_ Anx, no, don’t do this to me. No, please- _

He turned away to face the Thing, no longer to see Logic’s anguished face, words, or signs. He stepped closer, closer, a march that took only a few moments but stretched for eternity before him.

As he reached it, he felt Logic rush for him, pulled out of his grieving-shocked stupor for long enough to try to physically stop him, but it was too late.

He jumped into it, and as he did so, he felt a flash of fear - a run-for-your-life, you’re-gonna-die kind of fear that he’d only feel if he started valuing himself, valuing his  _ life -  _

And he grinned, knowing that as he stepped forward to extinguish his light, he had finally come to regard it as something beautiful, something worth keeping.

And just like that, he was gone. 

Behind him a deafeningly silent wail ripped from his best friend as he collapsed to the ground, shaking and crying and  _ not getting his glasses smudged because he’d had the foresight to take them off for him and what now, who would do that now- _

*

If a tree fades in the forest, it seems, it can only make as much sound as the other trees can offer in grief. 

That is, the rustling of the leaves and the whispers of the wind and the sorrow of silence, which may not  _ sound  _ like much, but to a practiced ear, it holds all of the sadness the world over.

So they grieve.  _ Oh, _ but they grieve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm back from the dead! My b, guys. Summer was crazy and I'm a bonafide college kid now. Go figure!


End file.
